Leave our bikes down at the station
by swisstony
Summary: Loads of random shorts all about Ebola and Anthrax...maybe even a bit of dirty femeslash later: D
1. Chapter 1

'I'm bored.' Ebola complains letting one slender arm fall over the edge of her coffin lid. Anthrax grins watching her digits as they twitch.

'What ya telling me for?' Early on it was established by Anthrax in so uncertain terms that she wasn't entertainment. Ebola exhales the breath leaving her body in a long drawn out petulant sounding huff.

'You're always complaining, do you know that?' Ebola pauses trying to think up something witty as a response but her mind is blank she's so bored she's lost the ability to think, she closes her mouth and her features twisting into a frown. Anthrax is wrong she's not always complaining…is she? She does complain that is true, but its only because things are wrong, people do things wrong, now they're all sloppy, no one bothers and that bothers and offends her deeply. She's depressed, she's been depressed for a long time nothing seems to lift it not even Anthrax, she feels sick and tired and restless and dead all the way down inside. Ebola wants to crawl out of her skin and start all over again. People aren't meant to live so long, that's the problem nothing means anything when you have forever, its all just tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Ebola doesn't even know what day it is, not that it matters not that anything…

'I'm sick of this!' She cries out, her voice is shrill and squeaky.

Anthrax rolls her eyes; she's standing in the corner of their bedroom gazing out of the open window watching a couple kissing under the over hanging branches of one of the trees in the garden bellow.

'Those people are in the garden, again.' She muses; Ebola bolts up suddenly leaping out of her coffin she rushes across the room, she's all spindly arms and legs. She leans against Anthrax peering out into the darkness.

'How dare they! This is private property!' Ebola shrieks, Anthrax snorts shifting her back against the window sill folding her arms across her chest.

'What do you mean, again?' Ebola confronts her confusion stamp across her features.

'Again.' Anthrax replies simply. '…as in they've done it before.'

'When?' Ebola's eyes narrow darkly.

'I don't know a while back, they were out there kissing then too, she comes 'ere sometimes on her own she just stands there.' There's a wistful quality in the tone of Anthrax's voice Ebola doesn't register it at first.

'Why?' It's a real question Ebola doesn't understand she's never been in love, she doesn't understand Anthrax sighs.

'Cus he's gonna go off again ain't he, off to war like the rest of 'em. Bloody waste, all that blood all them nice warm bodies, they should be 'ere home and safe where we can have a good old nosh on 'em.'

Ebola studies the pair for a moments she sees the uniform now she didn't notice it before, she feels deficient.

'You think he'll die?' Anthrax's shrugs.

'Probably, they all do don't they in the end.'

'In the end.' Ebola echoes weakly, she closes the window and turns away.

Silence falls between them there's nothing left to say.

'You still bored?' Anthrax enquires slyly elbowing Ebola's side.


	2. Wikipedia lied to me

When Ebola woken up Anthrax had been missing, there had just been a rumpled empty space. She'd eventually found her she'd been curled up on the sofa, still in her mismatched pyjamas with their laptop perched between her knees.

'You're up early.' Ebola had mused, Anthrax had given her a cursory nod from over the top of the screen. She'd been smirking.

'The others aren't up yet?' Ebola had questioned wondering if the sun was still up, she'd perched awkwardly on the sofa Anthrax had twisted her body away hiding the screen from her few.

She was being childish.

'Dee,'

'You lied.' Anthrax had breathed finally.

'What?' Ebola's frozen face had twisted in confusion.

'You lied.' Anthrax had echoed, as she'd clutched the laptop possessively against her chest.

'When?' She'd cried out her voice had been high pitched and shrill, a mixture of confusion and outrage.

'The other night you lied, you told me you were 218.'

'I am!' Ebola had shifted awkwardly in her seat.

'My arse you are!' Anthrax had chuckled harshly.

'I looked you up on the internet,' She'd continued twisting the screen around to face her companion.

'Did you Wikipedia me?' Ebola gasped as she'd snatched the laptop out of Anthrax's grasp. Anthrax had snorted and slipped off the sofa yawning as she'd pulled her pyjama bottoms lazily out of her bum crack, Ebola had grimaced.

'You're disgusting.'

The brunette had simply shrugged the comment off, letting it slip from her narrow shoulders.

'Don't change the subject.' Anthrax had teased as she'd wandered into the space they'd 'jokingly' called the kitchen. It had been a real fully functioning state of the art stainless steal, built in hob and television kitchen which had been completely unnecessary. When she'd been consulted Anthrax had wanted a gym, which would also have been completely useless. In the end Ebola had opted for the kitchen because it had given her elderly housekeeper Mrs Pettifer somewhere to stand.

'You was born on 2nd February 1786 that makes you 223 you lemon.'

'That whole sentence was just gibberish.'

'Christ you're such a fucking grammar Nazi.' Anthrax had grumbled.

There was more complaining and griping but Ebola had been listening she'd been scrolling through the tabbed windows; Anthrax always had numerous things open on the computer at once, it had caught her eye a website about genealogy.

So she'd been looking for her again…


	3. The weekly shop

'I don't understand what we're all doing here?' Ebola had complained. Anthrax had rolled her eyes and cracked a wide grin.

'We're here to do the shopping.'

Ebola had stood frozen in front of the sliding plate glass doors.

'I know that's why they're here, but why are we here?' She'd nodded over her shoulder in the direction of her elderly housekeeper Mrs Pettifer and her maid Lizette who had been engaged in trying to find a shopping trolley minus the 'wonky wheel'.

'Cus we never do nothing together, we always leave them out and it ain't fair. Look just get inside, yeah!' Anthrax had pushed her roughly through the doors, Ebola had been instantly repulsed by the smell. The first thing she'd done was slip on her thick dark sunglasses, which obscured most of her features.

'You look ridiculous.' Anthrax had chuckled dryly.

Ebola had frowned ducking behind a magazine stand she'd glanced around the empty super market sumptuously.

'Look I just don't want anyone I know to recognise me, or you for that matter!' She'd squealed and tugged on the leather of Anthrax's jacket.

'Get off me you elitist snob!' The younger woman had shrugged her off roughly.

'And, I don't thing **anyone **you **know **would shop in a _Tesco Metro_.' There had been to ways to take Anthrax's comment and Ebola had chosen the latter.

'I should hope not.'

They'd been joined by Mrs Pettifer, Lizette and the trolley.

'This shouldn't take long Madame.' The plump grey haired woman had informed Ebola.

'What do you want us to do?' Anthrax had questioned excitedly.

'Lizette, give Miss Delia you're list.' The mousy girl had stared wide eyed for a moment and then sheepishly passed the piece of paper she'd been clutching in her grasp over to Anthrax, relinquishing her control over her half of the shopping list.

Mrs Pettifer and Lizette had drifted off down one of the aisles, Anthrax had glanced down at the piece of paper.

'Fuck, this just more cleaning stuff!' She'd complained.

'Please don't swear we're in public.'

'How dirty is our flat?' Anthrax mused.

'Fuck this lets get a trolley and raid the bit they keep all the alcohol.'

Half an hour later Ebola had been sitting hunched inside the trolley swigging mouthfuls from the one half descent bottle of champagne they'd managed to find, Anthrax had been wearing her glasses and racing her up and down the DVD aisle.

'Oooh _Dirty Dancing _for a fiver grab it yeah, Mac!' They'd seen that film when it had first been released it was one of the only films Anthrax had ever sat through completely and quietly without going on a murderous rampage half way through. She'd always been a soppy tart at heart, she was transfixed by a good romance. Ebola hadn't been that impressed she'd been around in the 1950's and the 1980's and she'd never remembered it being like that.

However Ebola had picked up the DVD, Anthrax had planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek leaving a dark lipstick smudge.

'_Nobody puts Baby in a corner…' _ Ebola knew what that had meant it meant they'd be forced to listen to _Hey! Baby _all the way home in the limo, while Anthrax sang hopelessly out of tune at the top of her lungs.


	4. In the spring I shed my skin

**Thanks for my lovely reviews from Hayley: D Em and Little Miss Queen Of Darkness…keep reading u guys and maybe doing a sneaky review; D**

**Hope u like this: D**

The cold air blasts against her face, tingeing her normally dower alabaster complexion pink. The snowflakes brush against her face, resting on the tips of her nose and eyelashes. The motion of the train thunders underneath her, the incessant power. She gazes into the midnight horizon. She always longed to travel, now that she finally does darkness greets her. The sea is never blue, the sky is never golden, the snow is never white. Everything is comprised of dark shadows, in her nocturnal world.

'Are you feeling better now?' Ebola's arms snake tightly around her waist.

Her sickness subsiding, Anthrax nods. That's another thing about travelling that she never consider, how travel sick she would be. Almost every form of transport makes her queasy. The only thing she can just about manage is a horse, she surprisingly good on horses.

'You've have snow on you.' Ebola giggles playfully. She places a quick succession of kisses on Anthrax's nose, eyes and mouth, catching the snowflakes with her tongue before they have a chance to melt away.

'Get off!' It's a half hearted gesture, Anthrax pulls her closer, letting her slender fingers twist in the warm fur trim of Ebola's dress. The sleek velvet of Ebola's emerald green dress blends in against the polished satin wood, and plush scarlet upholstery of their private carriage.

Ebola slips her hand in Anthrax's and gentle tugs her out of the corridor.

'_Votre petite oie _finally has some colour in her cheeks, _mon ami_.' The woman, Ebola's friend greets them warmly. The dog lounging around her heels yaps at Anthrax.

'_Arrêtez-le.' _Ebola pouts, her hand sliding possessively down over Anthrax's back.

'Oh Amy it's just a little _plaisanterie. _You would not deny an old friend such a thing.' The woman laughs, her pigeon English accent thick. The woman is a stranger to Anthrax, she joined them on the train in Paris. She exudes a fresh, decedent, glamorous quality. She lounges against the scarlet upholstery like a mythical goddess. The white satin of her evening dress is set off seamlessly against her ebony skin, and the diamond earrings that hang down from her shell like ears. Her hair is cut short and rolled up into a serious of neat, manicured ringlets.

'I hope you do not mind _mon ami_, but I took the _pas _of ordering a little _café, _from your charming Mrs Pettifer. She has not changed.'

'She never does.' Anthrax pipes up for the first time. She's felt outside of everything since Paris, she's been trapped in the carriage listening to Ebola and the woman babbling away in French and giggling. Talking and laughing about the things she doesn't understand. It brings it all back to her how little she still knows about Ebola, about her life before they met. There is always a part of her hidden.

'Was it your first journey to Paris?' The woman asks as she casually slips one long leg over the other.

'Yes.' Anthrax confirms simply, her words feeling stilted in her own mouth. She sits down, watching as the woman pulls a brightly coloured cocktail cigarette from a gold plated case.

'Oh Amy, you have been remiss. My _petite oie_ you should have seen Paris when it was young and alive. When the streets ran with the blood of the aristocratic swine!' She shrieks the last part, the bile is thick in her voice.

'Agathe, was quite the revolutionary.' Ebola whispers softly against Anthrax's shoulder.

'If I remember correctly,' Ebola grins leaning back in her seat fixing Agathe with a warm amused smile.

'…you ended up slaughtering more of your own.'

'Cowards!' Agathe spat, remembering suddenly to exhale the smoke bellowing from her nostrils.

'You English, always exaggerate such things.' She offers the contents of her cigarette case to Anthrax, who studies it for a moment a rainbow of pastel shades glinting up at her. In the end she selects a soft amber coloured cigarette. Lighting the end she slumps back in her seat, feeling suddenly somewhat sluttish.

'_Non_, My _petite oie_ you should have seen Paris before, I fear now…' Agathe's voice dies suddenly in her throat with a whimper. Her almond shaped gaze moves from Anthrax to Ebola.

'Can you feel it my friend, there's a change in the weather. Can you feel it, _mon ami_?'

'It feels like it did before.' Anthrax answers, while Ebola turns her head silently away. Agathe nods, a sage-like quality suddenly falling over her, she looks older then.

'The _petite oie_ is perceptive. This is something darker though. Did you hear what they called your manservant?'

'Stop it.' Ebola implores weakly.

'Jud…'

'That's enough!' Ebola barks. She startles Anthrax, but not Agathe who simply chuckles in response.

'That's enough.' She continues the tone of her voice becoming steady and less shrill.

'Nothing is changing. Nothing is going to happen.' She's sounds like she's trying ton convince herself more than the other two women sharing her carriage.

'If you say so, _mon ami_.' Agathe grins, pulling her pampered lap dog up onto her lap.

'This is my _bébé_ _Ombre_,' She coos lovingly at the jet black Pekinese.

'…she has travelled with me on many journeys.' Anthrax realises somewhat late, and feeling foolish that the dog is one of them. That the woman in front of her bestowed the dark gift on a pet.

A moment later Mrs Pettifer appears with their coffee.


End file.
